


The Best Guy

by JulieJewels



Series: About Peter Parker [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Car Accidents, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpderSon, Ned Leeds Needs a Hug, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, POV Outsider, Precious Ned Leeds, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried Happy Hogan, Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-07 10:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18233894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieJewels/pseuds/JulieJewels
Summary: For Ned, the night started out really well. Like, it couldn't have gone any better. But apparently his luck is running out now - or maybe the infamous Parker Luck is kicking in. Either way, they're in the car one second and then ...





	1. Enamored

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is the third part of my series About Peter Parker, but I think you should be able to understand this story even if you haven't read the other two. (By the way, thank you all so much for the kudos and comments on A Lucky Guy and A Nice Guy!) I hope you enjoy. :D

Normally, Ned was not really one to party, but this was awesome and he could die right here, right now, without any regrets at all. For the past three hours straight, he’d been dancing with Betty Brant of all people. And it was magnificent. _She_ was magnificent.

He knew he’d lost sight of Peter somewhere along the way, and he’d lost sight of MJ before that, but he didn’t care where they were right now. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Not up until someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around to find his best friend standing in front of him, face pinched and eyes screwed up in obvious discomfort. Right, Peter and loud music and a hundred people in a single room probably did not bode well. Still, for the evening to already be over …

“One more song!” Ned begged, looking over his shoulder at Betty, who was lost in the music. Wow. She was so beautiful as she swayed left and right, eyes closed and head tilted to the side. And she’d danced with _him._ Granted, she’d had a drink or two – they both had – and chances were she would not even remember him come morning. Still, Ned was happier than he could ever remember being. Kind of. And he really, really wasn’t ready for this to end. Not yet.

Not ever, probably.

Peter flinched at a particularly loud note, screwing his eyes shut. He just nodded, backing away and towards the door. Now, normally Ned would have followed immediately, but apparently Betty was his kryptonite. Oh, she made him weak, alright. And she did not even have to try. As he turned back to her, his heart clenched at the mere thought of running after his friend and leaving her on the dance floor by herself.

(Not that she would've had trouble finding a new dance partner, but Ned tried not to think about that.)

It would only be one more song. That couldn’t hurt anyone, could it?

He was about to lose himself in the music again when someone else punched him, in the arm this time. Also, harder than Peter would ever dare to. His eyes flew open to an angry Cindy.

“What’s wrong with you!” she screamed over the beat of the song. Her voice was shrill and grating in his ear. “He’s driving you home, the least you could do is not keep him waiting.”

Ned’s eyes bulged as he watched the little girl, so feisty and determined looking up at him. She was right, of course, but it was Ned’s job to know that. It was Ned’s job to worry over Peter and fuss over him and make sure that he did not let too many people bully him. It was his job to force food down his throat and to call Mister Stark when things got too dire.

Not that he had done it before. Calling Mister Stark, that is. And he hoped he never had to.

(Though he couldn’t picture _that_ particular conversation turning out anything short of awesome.)

“Go on!”

Right, Cindy. His thoughts seemed a little slippery tonight.

“Are you even listening to me?” she yelled as he failed to react in time. She picked up a book someone had discarded and brought it down on his arm. He yelped, protecting his abdomen the way Peter had shown him in one of their lessons on self-defence, and stumbled back a few steps. Which did nothing to stop Cindy. She smacked him again, hitting the same spot for the second time in a row and eliciting another yelp.

(Apparently, Peter was not a good teacher. It had to be that because, as a wise man called Mister Miyagi had once said, _there was no such thing as a bad student._ )

_God, Ned, could you please focus?_

Betty was still in her own world and so Ned didn’t even get to say goodbye before he was pushed outside and the door slammed shut in his face, an angry Cindy the last thing he got to see before the wood took away his sight and his hearing in one fell swoop.

He blinked, the silence and the cold encompassing him like icy water.

So _rude_. A host treating their guests that way. _Huh._ And the worst thing was that he hadn’t even got to tell Cindy that to her face because everything had happened so fast and he hadn’t had the time to close his gaping mouth.

And the _absolute_ worst thing was that he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry. Come on. He could not remember a night – ever, at all, in his entire life – when two girls had decided to give him their full attention, one after the other. Not counting MJ, of course.

But yeah, even counting MJ.

He sighed and snapped his jaw shut. Then he noticed that he was still facing the door, still watching it, for God only knew how long now. Man, he had to make a complete fool out of himself at every step, didn’t he? He snapped the collar of his sweater up (Cindy had, of course, forgotten to pick up his coat on the way out, but he would rather have died of frostbite than showed his face inside again), trying to preserve whatever was left of his dignity. He turned around, head held high.

There was no one there. At least no one paying attention to him, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

He hurried over to the black town car he recognised as Mister Stark’s and watched, as he got closer, the pair leaning against it. Peter was laughing at something Happy had said and the older man was smiling fondly down at his young charge, donning a neutral expression as soon as the boy looked up.

“Thanks, Hap, you’re the best.”

Ned interrupted them with a quiet cough. He knew he should have let them finish, should have let the conversation play out, but he was feeling a little selfish right now and he thought he was allowed to act on it. He _had_ been robbed of his last dance, after all, and it didn’t seem fair for him to be kept waiting in the cold on top of it.

“Oh, Ned!” Peter exclaimed, looking surprised and delighted all at once as he pushed himself off the car and approached him. “That went fast. I thought I would have to come in in half an hour and drag your enamored ass out of there.”

Ned’s cheeks grew hot. “I’m not … _enamored._ Besides, dude, that’s a _really_ weird word.”

“Oh, come _on,_ man. You’ve been dancing with Betty for the better part of the night.”

Ned could not help but grin. “Yeah, I have.”

“I rest my case,” Peter whispered, chuckling lowly. Then he took pity on his best friend and dropped the subject.

Well, that wasn’t really fine with Ned, either.

As he sat down in the car, watching Peter close the door behind him and noticing the divider slide up silently, he was already talking. The words kept spewing out of him, like fire, and there was absolutely no way of stopping them.

“… and she looked me in the eye, Peter, she looked right at me, and the thing is – and I will deny it if you say this to anyone –, but the thing is that I thought it was over then, you know? I thought she would see me and recognize me and move on to the next guy, but she _didn’t._ She just took my hands – right here, I don’t think I’ll wash them tonight. Or ever. She took them and she held them and she continued dancing and continued dancing and, oh my God, we were dancing _together._ ” He took a breath, noticing Peter’s amused expression. No matter. Not even that could bother him tonight, not even all the ammunition, all the blackmail material he was giving away for free. This was _Peter,_ after all. What could go wrong?

(Never in the history of humankind had anyone thought those words and not been corrected by Fate herself, by the way.)

“Well, yeah, fast forward two hours and we’re _still_ dancing and, Pete, you can’t imagine – or maybe you can, I’m not so sure at this point, but anyway, this was, hands down, the best night of my life.” He pursed his lips. “Well, maybe it comes in second to being your Guy-In-The-Chair for the first time, but it’s a _really_ close second.”

He watched Peter’s smug grin widen and rolled his eyes.

“So _what._ Maybe I _am_ enamored. It’s still a stupid word, dude.”

Peter shrugged. “Doesn’t change its meaning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ned grumbled.

Nothing followed and that should have probably been Ned’s first clue. Something should have followed. Peter should have countered his grouse with a gibe of his own, and on it would go, their quips lasting the whole ride and then culminating in the cheesy but inevitable statement, “I’m happy for you, man.”

It really, _really_ should have been this way, because it always had been. Ever since that first time Gwen Stacy had invited Peter to her party and Ned had had to accept in his best friend’s stead. Ever since Peter had talked to Gwen at said party for the first time and returned to Ned, smiling like Christmas had come early and brought a whole bunch of Legos with it. It had not worked out, like Peter’s crushes tended not to, but it had been a roller-coaster ride and Ned had been there for all of it.

So the beat of silence that stretched a _little_ too long made him look up instantly.

Peter’s face was frozen, as if cut out of a page that belonged to the previous second of his life and then glued over his actual head. It did not fit into the car, into the seat, did not move properly. Then his eyes widened and he said, “Shit.”

Just that, as if that explained anything.

Ned was about to tell him that, or to scream or to yell – because his heart jumped in his chest and a nervous energy shot through his body with lightning speed, and he knew that something was coming –

Something moved –

And there was a voice –

And ligh—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it because it was a blast to write. Tony Stark joins us in the next chapter, so I'm looking forward to that. Have a very nice Monday! ;)


	2. O-ow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned can honestly say that he's never been this scared in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for the kudos and all your beautiful comments. Enjoy!

There was tapping.

But it sounded really, really far off.

And something hurt. A little. But not too badly.

And then boom, a rush of fear that did not belong, and his eyes snapped open to the horror of his life.

Ned could tell that something beyond his little bubble was in motion, even though he couldn’t see. First, he thought he’d gone blind, but then lights and shadows flitted over his surroundings and he took them in and realised that he was in a car.

But.

He was sitting on a window, his back against the ceiling and glass shards pressing into his butt. He blinked, but the scene did not change, did not morph into upright car seats and Happy’s music in the background and windows, _intact,_ reflecting the lights from outside.

No, no. Gravity had decided to play a trick on him and now he was glued to the side of the car, unable to move back to his seat.

And it got worse.

“Peter?!” he breathed, his heart thumping frantically in his chest. His best friend was there, real and heavy against him, but that was little comfort, _too little_ , because his eyes were closed and, well.

He did not look okay, was all Ned could say.

That’s when Ned screamed and he remembered a feeling, similar to this one, his throat closing up and his chest exploding with tension and his vocal cords begging for release. He also remembered that the release had never come because everything had happened too fast and –

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

He pushed Peter off of him – _no need to check for a pulse because it’s_ there – and tried to climb to his feet and then he recognised the tapping.

It wasn’t tapping at all.

It was Happy, trying to pry the door above Ned’s head open and failing.

And, well, since Ned was still screaming, he could hear nothing else that was going on on the other side of the door.

So he looked down at Peter – lying there so still and quiet – and made himself stop. He clamped his mouth shut, bit down hard on his lip until he tasted blood. He counted to ten and then he counted to twenty and to thirty, because who in the world had ever thought ten seconds would be enough to calm down from _anything_ , and then he straightened as much as he could, watching Peter, and he turned one ear to the door, watching Peter.

“Kid!” was all he could hear, over and over.

Until the door finally screeched open and there he was, the old man, and Ned had never in his entire life been so happy to see anyone.

“Happy!” he screamed. His voice raw and scratchy and horrible, but it got the man’s attention well enough and the driver’s eyes snapped to him, losing a small, small bit of their tension. Happy sighed.

“You’re okay,” he said, looking around some more. “How’s Pete?”

Something fogged up his vision and Ned felt the heavy pull of tears. He sniffed. “He’s – he’s fine, Happy, he’s okay, he just …”

Well, for one, he won’t wake up. But that seemed to be the extent of the damage. There was nothing else wrong with him, nothing, because in his very _thorough_ examination, Ned hadn’t found any blood or … or …

“… hear me? Ned, I need you to look at me!”

And yeah, another problem. There was so much going on that Ned could not focus. On anything. Not even on his own thoughts.

“Look at me, kid!”

He turned his face up and looked Happy square in the eye. _There. Happy?_

A dry chuckle, which had apparently slipped out of his mouth. Because it was really funny. _Of course he’s Happy, dude. That’s his literal name._

“… hear me?” Happy was saying and Ned hadn’t, of course, he had _not_ heard, and how did Happy not know that already?

Apparently, though, he did. He’d started talking again. Really slowly this time, as if Ned was somehow impaired. “Ned, I’m going to need your help, okay?”

Though maybe he was?

“We need to get Peter out –”

Ned snapped back to reality. The chuckle died in his throat and he was right there, in the car, with his best friend lying unresponsive at his feet.

“But you don’t know if it’s safe to move him!” he squealed, suddenly aware, and it was the first reasonable statement he’d voiced in a while. Maybe his wits were coming back to him. Or maybe he was just losing his mind the way you fall asleep – slowly and then all at once.

But wait, where did he know that from?

“I know, but we need to.” Happy’s voice, real and grounding.

“Why?”

“Ned, listen to me. We need to get the two of you out, okay? Help me get Pete out and then we’ll pull you out after him. Come on, Ned, work with me here.”

There was an urgency to his voice and his gaze and his arms that reached inside but could never be long enough to reach all the way to Peter, who was huddled into a ball on the floor.

On the window, actually, but who was keeping track?

_Fine._ Ned bent down and clutched Peter’s wrists – one of them really slippery, but that didn’t mean anything –, dragging his best friend up like a sack of flour. He was dead weight against his side, his head lolling from left to right, and Ned shook under him.

He shook under something else too, but he couldn’t go there now because he needed to get Peter out …

Happy’s hands reached down and he grabbed Peter’s head first, running his fingers over the boy’s face. Then, the second he could reach the boy’s shoulders, Happy pushed his hands under Peter’s armpits and pulled. Ned felt his friend’s weight lessen and lessen, until it wasn’t there at all and he was alone, alone, spinning away from everyone else in the world. He thought he might die just from the loneliness of it all. Just from the sheer pressure of the universe coming down on him, crushing him, because in the end, he was on his own.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Happy’s hands came back for him too, and he let himself be helped out of the car, down its side and then lowered carefully to the ground.

Then, he wished for a little more loneliness.

There were people and voices, screaming over each other. Three men, running this way and that. Another car that had apparently crashed into theirs - white, huge, totaled. Otherwise, the street seemed empty and quiet. The fire department had not arrived yet, not from what Ned could tell, but they should have. They _should_ have, because Mister Stark’s beautiful town car was smoking, resting on its side like a broken toy, and Ned was sure that he saw flames - plus, where there was smoke, there had to be fire. And if there was fire, it would engulf the car sooner or later.

He was pulled away, to the curb of the road where a patch of grass lined the pavement. First, he was sick on the grass, and that seemed right because the things he’d seen were sickening. There was an old bike on the ground a few feet to his left. It was crumbling to pieces and it seemed like it had been there for ages, forgotten by its former owner and by the world. Ned felt an instant sense of kinship, but he forced himself away, back into the real world.

Happy was kneeling on the pavement to his left. Behind his hunched form, the three men who had apparently been in the other vehicle stood and stared. One of them was on the phone. Ned let his eyes roam over them. They couldn’t be older than thirty.

And that decidedly didn’t matter.

On the ground, next to the driver, was his best friend.

Ned crawled over to Happy and _God._

His heart sped up as he saw those eyes open. Just a crack, just enough to see the brown in there, but dead eyes did not open on their own, not even a little, and Ned wanted to be sick again, just from the new weakness crushing through his body like a warship. But he _needed_ to stay here and so Peter won out. Peter always won out in the end. Ned moved even closer, wrapping his hand around Peter’s.

Happy did not notice.

“That’s it, kid,” he was saying, mumbling beautiful nothings that would hopefully coax the boy back to consciousness. “You’re doing great. Come on, open your eyes a little more for me. You can do it, you can do it. I know you can.”

And Peter did. He groaned, then glanced lazily at Happy and at Ned. His head lolled from side to side.

“Say something, kid.” Happy was not one to relent and Ned saw Peter swallow.

“O-ow.”

Happy huffed out a hysterical laugh. Ned could honestly say he had never seen the old man so … _happy._ A tear rolled down Ned’s cheek as he squeezed Peter’s hand tighter, and he noticed a similar drop cling to Happy’s chin too, before it got too heavy and gave up its perilous grip on his beard.

“I know it hurts, kid,” Happy said. “But help’ll be here soon and you’ll be okay.”

Peter nodded, more aware by the minute. He gulped again, his Adam’s apple swaying up and down, and then he asked, “Okay?”

“You’re okay, Peter,” Happy said, because he did not know the boy as well as Ned did and because you could not imagine a _Peter Parker_ before you got to know a _Peter Parker._ But Ned had spent most of his life as this guy’s best friend. He knew him better than the back of his hand and that was why he cupped Peter’s cheek and carefully eased his head to the right, making those brown eyes latch onto his own.

“We’re both okay, Peter,” he said slowly, making sure his friend understood. “Happy and I are okay. You got the brunt of it. Understood?”

Peter nodded, sighing.

Ned was just about to push another image away, something he knew he would have to address sooner or later, when the sound of repulsors settled over the gathered crowd like a heavy blanket.

Ned looked up in time to see the Iron-Man suit land a few feet off, its expression neutral and cold as ever. But then the plates moved back and the dispassion was replaced by something more sinister, more panicked. Mister Stark stumbled out, landing on his hands and knees in a display of clumsiness Ned would never associate with the engineer. He picked himself up quickly and skidded over to them, landing on his knees next to Peter.

“What happened?” he breathed, placing a hand on Peter’s chest and squeezing gently. That same hand pushed down when the boy’s eyes widened and he attempted to sit up with a surprised “Mister Stark!” on his lips.

“Stay down, Pete,” Mister Stark said at the same moment as Peter’s eyes shut tightly and he screwed his face up in obvious pain. Mister Stark frowned, turning to Happy frantically.

“What’s wrong with him? What happened, _Happy_?” His hands, meanwhile, were already shakily reaching for the hem of Peter’s T-shirt – which was covered in something dark, but Ned managed to look away fast enough – and trying to pull it up.

“Car crash,” was Happy’s immediate reply. “He, uh, he was unconscious for a few minutes there, but he came back and he seems pretty lucid …”

“ _Shit on a pike!_ ” Mister stark exclaimed, pulling Peter’s shirt back down and allowing Ned to look again. “Where does it hurt, kid, huh?” he asked hurriedly. “Pete? Where does it hurt?”

“’M okay, Mister Stark,” Peter muttered wearily. “Just … just my head and my arm and my side, but it’s not too bad.”

Mister Stark nodded solemnly, leaning closer to Peter. “Help’s on the way. They’re only a minute or so out.”

Peter hummed and nodded and that was when Mister Stark changed. Completely. The worried expression dropped off his face and was replaced by something cold and schooled. He rose to his feet, slow and deliberate, and wheeled around to the other three men on the pavement.

One of them was holding his phone in his frozen hand, inches away from his ear. They were all of them staring in shocked awe at the arguably most powerful man in the world.

Said man walked up to them slowly, his rage closed away behind pursed lips and clenched fists. He stopped a few inches short of bumping into them, towering above them even though he objectively couldn’t have been taller than any of the three. He locked eyes with each of them, held their gazes for a few seconds, then said, quiet and deadly, “You are going to pay.”

One of the men made the horrible mistake of feeling insulted enough to go up against the one and only Tony Stark. “For what?” he challenged.

It was a challenge Mister Stark was more than willing to accept. He wordlessly pulled out his phone, tapped an icon and turned the screen so that the three men could see.

“Traffic cam caught this,” he said as a video started playing. “You ran a red light.”

The rage was buried under a false sense of calm, but Ned could still hear it deep in Mister Stark’s voice. He could sense it coming off the engineer and he could not comprehend how the three men were still standing there, still alive and well.

The men, if possible, grew paler. _That’s more like it,_ Ned thought. Mister Stark smirked cruelly as he heard sirens in the distance, but the sound was drowned out by something louder and more imminent. _A helicopter,_ Ned realised as he looked up.

It was Mister Stark’s helicopter and it was filled to the brim with the best equipment and doctors money could possibly buy. They strapped Peter onto a stretcher and wheeled him inside, then herded Ned, Happy and Mister Stark in after him. They took off, leaving the three men who had caused this debacle in the capable hands of the NYPD.


	3. The Best Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are said and wounds bandaged, and Ned is starting to feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you guys! Thank you for sticking with this series this far. I love your support! We're at the last chapter again. Enjoy!

An hour later, Ned was resting his stuffy head on his Mom’s hard shoulder.

She had arrived at Stark Tower twenty minutes prior and had promptly been informed that her son was _physically_ fine – he had bumped his head, but there were no signs of a concussion. His Mom had let out a sigh of relief and collapsed into the chair next to Ned, who had, for his part, tried not to notice the emphasis the doctor had decided to put on the simple word _physically._

Sure, he was a little distressed. But hey, he was doing just fine, considering. He wasn’t jittery. He wasn’t scared or anxious. He didn’t feel helpless _._ He was just …

Well, he was tired, for one. And worried about Peter. That was why his hands shook and his eyes watered and why his mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

His Mom had immediately declared that she was taking him home, but Ned had put his foot down and vetoed her decision. He couldn’t leave, not while Peter was still in the examining room, closed away from them all and crowded by doctors.

Peter had not lost consciousness anymore since he had first awoken and Ned was comforted by that. If anything, his best friend had seemed progressively more alert, as if his healing abilities had already kicked in. Which, thinking about it now, seemed like a plausible explanation.

Both Ned and Happy had also been pushed down into seats on the helicopter and cleared for any severe injuries. Meanwhile, Mister Stark had not moved away from his – his _intern._ He had held his hand, spoken his name over and over, probably kept him awake.

The man in question was now sitting across from Ned, head leant back against the bleak white wall and hand wrapped around a coffee cup that had stopped smoking a while ago. His eyes were closed and his breaths regular, but Ned knew he wasn’t sleeping.

In fact, Ned would have walked over and offered some support if the man weren’t _Tony Stark_ and if Ned weren’t feeling so … tired. And worried about Peter.

He sighed.

His gaze shifted, careful to avoid the small group of people to his far right. If he acknowledged them now, his emotions would burst like a firework, good and bad ones alike, and then he would never be able to stop laughing and crying. He knew that. So instead, his eyes moved lazily towards Happy for the first time in the past hour.

When the driver locked eyes with him, the pictures exploded, all at once. The sudden lights, Peter’s “Shit!”.  Something moving. Shifting. Then, Peter next to him, heavy and boneless.

He _knew,_ he just …

And he was grateful, just …

There was something else there, is all. Another feeling he couldn’t place.

When the door to Peter's room opened, they were all on their feet faster than you could say Spider-Man. Tony was first in front of the doctor with Ned and Happy in close pursuit. Some of the other Avengers were in the waiting room with them – Captain America and the Winter Soldier and Black Widow and freaking _Thor_ –, but they stayed back, opting to listen to the doctor’s verdict from a distance. And thank God for small mercies like that. Ned _really_ couldn’t have handled standing next to them right now.

They shouldn’t have been here in the first place, since they now lived at the Compound, but apparently, they’d dropped by for their weekly movie night. (There were other Avengers somewhere in the Tower too, but they couldn’t all fit into the crammed waiting room. Ned didn’t really want to think about it.)

And apparently, _someone_ had missed aforementioned movie night in favor of going to a party.

And anyway, _so_ not important.

He felt his Mom’s hand on his shoulder as the doctor closed the door quietly and turned serious brown eyes on them. Her nametag read Doctor Helen Cho.

“He’s okay.” There was a collective sigh of relief that seemed to speak directly from Ned’s own heart. The hand on his shoulder was suddenly slack as his body relaxed. “He had a broken collarbone and a mild concussion. The worst of his injuries is the wound in his side, caused by a shard that was lodged there, but we removed the shard and it missed all vital organs, so it just needs some time to heal.”

Tony said nothing as he jumped past the doctor and barged through the door into Peter’s room. Ned and his Mom were hot on his heels, while Happy and the other Avengers decided to stay back and give them some space.

Peter lay in his hospital bed as if nothing had happened, broad smile in place. His arm was in a sling and his covers were pulled up unusually high, but other than that, he looked perfectly alright. Mister Stark was already by his side when Ned entered, and the boy hurried over, followed by his Mom. They all gathered around the bed and Peter took them in with a tired but satisfied sigh.

“Hey, Ned,” he said, his eyes drifting shut and back open lazily. Ned smiled.

“Hey, man.”

“Where – where’s Aunt May?”

Tony grimaced as if the woman’s absence was his personal failure. “She had that business trip, buddy, remember?” While he explained, his thumb traced soothing circles on the back of Peter’s hand. “She’s on her way back now, but she won’t be here for a couple of hours.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Two beats of silence.

“Peter?”

Ned was surprised by his own voice. It was so quiet and so small and really did not fit into the conversation at all. His _intention_ did not fit. Something about May should have followed, or about business trips or about traveling in general, because that’s how conversations usually worked. You jumped from thought to thought, moving forward by association, and you let them dwindle when there was nothing more to say.

Ned was not going to talk about May or business trips or traveling. He had something so much more pressing, and he just couldn’t wait anymore.

“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes were on him now, two brown orbs of sincerity, as if he _knew._ Which, knowing Peter, he maybe did.

“I just …” Ned stopped, looking down. Trying to find the right words as if there were any. But there weren’t, not for matters like this, because no one had ever invented them because no one ever expected to end up needing them and once you did, it was too late.

So he just said it, plain and simple. Using the same words he used to describe the weather or an exam or a Lego set.

“I just wanted to say that I know that you jumped in front of me and … thank you.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “Jumped in front of you when?”

Oh. Right. Concussion. Memory loss was one of the common symptoms, but Ned’s eyes watered regardless.

“Well, uh …” He washed a hand down his face. “I remember … I mean, the car crash happened really fast, but I still remember most of it, or at least I think so, and I remember that you jumped in front of me before we crashed, so you took the brunt of it while I got through alright …”

Peter nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah, sounds like me.”

“I’m being serious, man.”

The brown eyes snapped back to him, clearly trying to focus. Ned decided on a hunch to take advantage of the drugs Peter was on, of his loopy state. Maybe he would finally be able, for once, to get through his best friend’s thick skull.

“Look, you could have died, alright?”

“So could you.”

Ned huffed. “I had you.”

“Exactly!”

“But you had no one, Peter.”

Mister Stark made an anguished noise, almost too quiet for Ned to hear but still understandable. Still real and tangible. And hurt. “I – I didn’t mean it like that, Mister Stark,” Ned said quietly, instantly refocusing his attention on Peter. “Just, just listen to me, Peter, okay?”

His best friend bobbed his head curtly, once.

“I _am_ grateful. That’s the first thing I want to say, okay? Thank you, Peter, really.”

“But?”

“ _But_ I also want you to hear something else.” He leaned closer, feeling his Mom’s hand on his shoulder. “You got hurt because of me.”

“I heal fast, Ned.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ned huffed, feeling a little frustrated. But they were on a good path, by their standards. “How would you feel if, say, Captain America got hurt because of you?”

Peter shuddered. “That has nothing –”

“It’s the same thing, except I’m your best friend. Captain America heals fast, too. Doesn’t make him replaceable.”

“I never thought –”

“You’re not replaceable, Peter,” Ned said, pushing the words into Peter’s brain as deep as they would go. Funny, he thought fleetingly, how you only got one set of words to live with your whole life, but sometimes, when you put them together right, their meaning somehow became deeper and more solemn.

This was as solemn as Ned could ever get.

“I know that.”

“Well, then _please_ keep it in mind.” Ned sniffed, rubbing a hand over his burning eyes. “You’re not a human shield, okay?”

“So what are you saying, Ned? I shouldn’t have jumped in front of you?” Peter’s voice was dry and weary and Ned felt his frustration skyrocketing, because he didn’t exactly know what he was saying himself.

It’s been a long day, okay?

“You know what, Peter, I don’t think you get it. I don’t think you could _ever_ get it because all you do is swing around and save people and you’re never the one being saved. Sorry to break it to you, but being saved _sucks,_ dude.”

“I think _not_ being saved sucks more,” Peter muttered into his chin.

“I’m being serious, man!”

“So am I!” Peter turned his gaze on him, but this time it was heated somewhere below the lull of the medication. “Look, I don’t remember jumping in front of you and there’s nothing I can do about it now, but I’m sure I would do it again and I can’t feel sorry for that. I won’t feel sorry for that.”

“I’m not asking you to!”

“So what the hell are you asking me to do, Ned?” His expression was hard and stony. “What do you want from me?”

And really, what did he want?

It would have been so easy to give in to his anger and say, “Nothing. I want _nothing_ from you, Peter.” It would have been the simplest thing to storm away, fists clenched and jaw set and mind boiling.

But it was Peter he was talking to and it would have also been the hardest thing he had ever done, walking away from his friend like that.

So Ned took a few calming breaths, in and out (only ten this time because it had to be enough and frankly, he didn’t want to look like a weirdo in front of Mister Stark), then deliberately unclenched his fists and relaxed his jaw.

“I want one thing. You promise me one thing, and I swear I’ll drop it, okay?”

Peter tilted his head, his expression defiant.

“Next time you see danger, stop just for a second and think what you have to lose. Okay? Stop for one second and think if it’s worth it. Only that. I know you’ll still go and save as many people as you possibly can – because you always do that – but just … while you’re doing it, I want you to have that somewhere in the back of your head. Everything you could lose. The fact that you’re not replaceable. The fact that you can’t just _die_ instead of someone else. Okay?”

Peter’s shoulders sagged, the fight seeping out of him. He bit his lip, his eyes big and glassy, and then he nodded fervently, his head going up and down and up and down like that of a bobblehead. He rubbed a hand over his own eyes this time, then reached out.

Ned had no reservations at all. He leaned forward, careful with the IVs and Peter’s bandages, and hugged him gently and sensitively. The hand pressing weakly into his back was the best gift of the day.

“’M sorry,” Peter muttered and Ned chuckled as he carefully untangled their limbs.

“I though you said you weren’t going to be sorry for jumping in front of me.”

Peter rolled his eyes, smirking. It was a beautiful thing, the way they managed to return back to light banter even though their words stayed the same. “Not sorry about that.”

“Then what?”

He shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know. You said it yourself, I don’t get your _pain_.”

“Oh, you should be careful or you’ll more than get it.”

Peter chuckled. “ _Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?_ ”

Ned caught on quickly. His face changed as he struggled to get into character. “ _The Senate will decide your fate.”_

“ _I am the Senate,”_ Peter growled, then smiled, then laughed, and all Ned could do was join.

“Alright, you two,” a voice cut into the laughter and both Ned and Peter flinched. Somehow, they had forgotten they were not the only ones in the room. Mister Stark stood, placing a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “I think we should let Peter rest. A room was set up for you and your mother so you can catch some shuteye. You are welcome to stay here at the Tower for as long as you want.”

Ned opened his mouth to protest – staying in a room without his best friend didn’t really sound like his idea of fun –, but his Mom was quicker and besides, Peter looked on the verge of passing out. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let him sleep.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to get a few hours in himself.

So he concurred and listened to the two adults talk. “Thank you, Mister Stark. We would love to stay for a little while.” Ned glanced up at her, a little surprised if he was being honest. He’d thought his Mom was counting the seconds until they could go home. “Would that be okay, sweetie?” she asked as soon as their eyes met.

“That would be awesome!” Ned agreed enthusiastically.

His Mom nodded. “But we _are_ going home later today. That’s non-negotiable, Ned. You’ve school tomorrow.”

Right. School. Not something that was on Ned’s radar quite yet, but he had to admit that the idea of normalcy sounded surprisingly enticing.

“Oh, my God. School,” Peter groaned from the bed and Mister Stark rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Pete, you know you’re not going, right? At least for a week, but we can make it longer if you want.”

“No, a week’s fine,” Peter grumbled, then turned to Ned, nodding regally. “Go get some rest, dude. You look like R.”

“Hey, looked in the mirror recently? You don’t get to talk!”

“See ya tomorrow, Ned. And thanks for coming by.”

“Yeah, see ya! And, you know, thanks for saving my life or whatever.”

As Ned pulled open the door, he did not miss the fact that Mister Stark stayed behind, even though he _thought they should let Peter rest._ It also did not go unnoticed that Mister Stark showed no signs of planning to leave as he sat back down in his chair and said, “Who the hell is _R,_ Peter?”

“You’ve never watched _Warm Bodies,_ Mister Stark?”

“Do I look like a guy who watches _Warm Bodies_?”

Ned was grinning as he walked out of Peter’s room, but the smirk was wiped right off his face as his Mom spoke up from behind him, clicking the door closed quietly.

“So, what’s this about Peter saving _so many_ lives and always putting himself in danger and him – I believe you put it this way – _swinging around_?”

_Shoot._

Ned donned a nervous smile, turning to his Mom, but there really wasn’t much that could ruin his mood right now. He could take care of this slight hitch another day, with Peter by his side.

“Nothing much, Mom. Just that he’s the best guy ever, is all.”

She laughed. “That’s what you keep telling me. And, you know what, I think I’ll have to agree with you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, here we go. Third story done. It's Abe's turn tomorrow and his story is going to be a one shot. Also, I realised I forgot to mention: Civil War happened in this series, but the Avengers made up. And Thor somehow still has his hammer. But Infinity War never happened because it's still too fresh for me and I just ... well, I just couldn't open the door to all that drama. ;)
> 
> On another note, I'm thinking of doing a few IronDad-SpiderSon one shots in the near future, but I'm kind of low on ideas? So if any of you have any prompts they would like to see written, I would love to read about them in the comments!
> 
> Okay, that's all. See ya!


End file.
